


Glowing Hearts

by MsMay



Category: Glowing Hearts, Soul Mates - Fandom
Genre: Dumb boys being dumb, Enemies to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, I just kind of gave the characters names, IDK if that's acceptable, M/M, Multi, Shit, copious numbers of references to all kinds of nerdy things, how do you tag something that doesn't even have a fandom?, possible drug refences later on, the rating will probably go up, unbeta'd by the way, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2170875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMay/pseuds/MsMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarence Went is your run of the mill nerd. He studies for his classes, he does well in school, he watches copious amounts of TV and reads tons of books. He also gets humiliated and regularly beaten by the school's resident asshole, Mr. Damon Moore. Of course, he really don't like to think that about that guy, especially after it turns out this jerk jock is also his soul mate. </p>
<p>Will it be possible for these two to put aside their differences and actually get to know each other? Moreover, in a world where your heart glows whenever you're near your soul mate, is it possible to run away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fan fiction without a fandom I guess. I made up names for the characters based on a comic I saw on tumblr. It was pretty cute. If anyone else has written something for this glowing hearts thing, let me know, so I can read it. Anyway, have fun reading.

I wanted a change

"Hey."

I used to pray for it.

"Hey stop-"

I don't even believe in a god,

"Jesus shit, would you-"

But man, did I ever pray. I prayed for anything, for any sort of break from that hellish game he played with me.

“Don’t run!”

I shouldn't have prayed.

"STOP." He was faster than I was, faster and stronger. Of course I wouldn't just be able to run away. "Stop for five fucking seconds, and listen to me." He had me trapped against the lockers, an arm on either side of my body. A light panic shivered down my spine as my thoughts began to disjoint into bits and pices, flashes of ‘holy shit’ and ‘move’ and ‘get out’ and ‘run’.

"I won't say a thing if you won't." I spoke quickly, avoiding his eyes. Really, how could I look at him? He, of all people, he was my soul mate. I used to wonder about whether or not I'd ever find my soul mate. After my best friend, Wendy, found hers a couple of months ago, and then this kid in my English class, Prescott, and my friend Abda found their soul mates the same day. I mean yeah, that was four out of the two thousand or so kids at my school, so I knew the statistical odds of me finding my soul mate were slim, and I still had the majority of my life ahead of me, and college, and all of that shit, but it's still hard not to wonder. A soul mate was someone who was supposed to understand you perfectly, who was always supped to be there for you, who was your perfect match. That was the dream, especially for . . . well someone like me.

"What?" He bit the word out like it was almost offensive to him. I shrank back against the lockers, curled in on myself a little more. Then I waited for a fist to connect, a knee in my groin. When it didn't happen, I looked up at him. He was just. . . staring at me, like he was waiting for something.

Oh.

Oh. I had to say something. I had to respond. He wasn't just going to hit me. I could say something.

"I won't say anything, if you don't." This time I looked him in the eye. He was quiet again, and I was beginning to wonder if maybe he didn't understand. "About, you know . . .the . . ." I gestured between our chests (which were way too close by the way), heat creeping up my neck a little bit. ". . . glowing." He just blinked twice. “The, the uh. . . the whole glowing,” My voice shrank as I got to the end. “s-soul mate . . . thing.”

“I know what you were fucking talking about.” He growled. I flinched.

“Oh, okay then.” My voice was definitely pitched up an octave or two.

“I’m not some idiot you know.” He stood up, taking a few steps back.

“Okay?” I ventured, unsure of how to respond to that sort of statement, considering he was kind of an idiot.“Sorry?”

“Whatever.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe. I inched off to the side, taking slow steady steps in the hopes that I could just walk back over to my locker, put a shirt on, and leave.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Um . . . Leaving?” I ventured.

“Before we’ve even fucking settled anything.” He took his hands out of his pocket and advanced on me once again.

“Well, I uh . . .” Once more, I was unceremoniously shoved into the uncomfortably cool metal of the lockers, my voice dying in my throat as he leaned over me. All I managed was a very manly, and very dignified squeak. He growled, pushing off the locker and turning his back on me in favor of the door. I could have sworn I heard him grumble ‘”fine” before he turned around, but it must have been my memory.

“We’re going to just forget that this ever happened.”

“Alright.” I braced myself against the wall a little bit, fighting off the need to just crumple to the ground for a few more seconds.

“Don’t think this changes anything.” He whirled around, and pointed an accusatory finger at me. I jumped, hands immediately flying in front of me. 

“Got it.” I gave him a quick thumbs up. In return he gave me a look that clearly expressed a desire to pound me into the locker room floor. After a few seconds he shook it off.

“Name’s Damon, by the way.” He sighed, like it was just so hard to exchange basic pleasantries with me. Of course I already knew his name. You had to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to have seen his face somewhere. After all, his name was on just about every sports award the school had received in the past three years. Even if you somehow missed that, Damon Moore was almost consistently ranked in the top ten list of most gossiped about people, and arguably number one in most absurd stories every told about them.

“Clarence Went.” And of course he already knew my name. That was reason this whole hell game had started. Clarence, what a shitty name, sounds like a girls name. It’s fitting for such a nerd.

“Hmm.” He nodded, like it was the first time he had heard the name, like it wasn’t the name of the kid he had tormented for so long, like it wasn’t the name he threw at me like some kind of slur, like it wasn’t the name of his soul mate, like it wasn’t the name that was supposed to be engraved on his heart. He hummed like it was nothing at all and I don’t know why that made me so angry.

And then he left. Just like that. I slid down the lockers, pressing my face to my forehead to my knees, and prayed that I had never prayed to begin with.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarence talks to his friend about being soul mates with the biggest dick in existence and regrets doing so latter that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot of background. I'm sorry that nothing really happens, but at least the ending should be entertaining. I'm still a little rusty with my writing skills, so hopefully it's not terribly boring to read.

Contrary to popular belief memory is not stored in a single part of the human brain. No singular place holds the summation of our life. Instead, it’s scattered across the cortex as groups of nerves that are primed to fire in the same pattern that elicited the original response. The image of an event, for example, could be stored in the visual cortex, while the feel of the event could be stored in the haptic cortex. On top of that, it’s theorized that the brain encodes redundantly, subconsciously planting that same bundle of memories across your brain, over and over and over. So no matter how much your conscious mind wants to get rid of that memory, no matter how many other things you try to memorize or learn, to write over that space, there will still be some corner of your mind that holds onto that memory. They’re not like books on a shelf, just waiting to be dusted off, but still . . . Anything, a loud bang, someone standing a bit too close, the sound of your name-

“Clare.” I jumped as Wendy poked me in the arm. 

“Don’t do that.” I muttered half-heartedly. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, continuing to lean across the table, messy brown hair falling in front of freckles and blue eyes. 

“I was day dreaming.” 

“It didn’t look pleasant.” She huffed, propped her face up on her hands and leaned a little further into my personal space. 

“Leave him alone.” Her soul mate of three, and tentative boyfriend of two months, Marcos looped a finer through one of her belt loops and tugged. All it earned him was half-assed glare. 

“It’s fine.” I sighed, letting my head fall down against the table as I thought over the best way to phrase the huge pressing feeling that had taken up residence in my mind as of Friday. 

“Hey, do you want to go get a cookie with me?” She nodded her head back towards the lunch line, before flickering a glance around their lunch table. 

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Sure.” 

“Don’t take too long.” From my left Abda spoke up. “We have a biology test today.” 

“I, uh, already studied.” I said, adjusting my glasses. 

“Since when do you study ahead a time for biology?” Kevin interjected, looking up from his laptop. 

“Shut up Kevin.” Abda prodded him with a highlighter, leaving a little green mark in the middle of one of his tattoos. 

“Gimme that highlighter.” While they bickered, Wendy grabbed my arm and hauled me off towards the cafeteria line. 

“Take your time.” She said, rubbing small circles on my back. 

“It’s not that bad, I’m fine.” I shrugged off her hand, fiddling with the hem of my sweater vest. Wendy didn’t press any further, just stood by side as we quietly inched forward. One of the kids in front of us took an hour to decide whether or not they wanted pizza or a chicken sandwich, and the kid in front of him had to scan their ID seven times before the busted old reader with recognize it. 

“I’m never going to marry my soul mate.” The words burst through my mouth as Wendy rang up our cafeteria cookies. The old woman working the register frowned, and nodded sympathetically as she handed us our goodies. My face burned in a mix of absolute shame and horror. A few of the other kids standing around murmured amongst themselves. 

It wasn’t until the noise of the cafeteria died away that I realized we had even moved. Wendy gently tugged me along until we were sitting outside our biology class, not a single human soul in sight. She slumped her head down against my shoulder. 

“So you found your soul mate,” She began, unwrapping the cellophane around her cookie and taking a bite. “And he’s a dick?” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” I chided. She just continued to wait. “Yeah, I found my soul mate, and . . . A dick doesn’t even begin the describe him.” How on earth does one pin down the enormous pile of shitty that is Mr. Damon Moore. Hot tears of frustration began to burn in my eyes. “He’s . . .” The words caught in my throat and I thumbed my head back against the wall. Wendy cooed softly, and reached an arm around me to give my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s alright.” She said softly. “Just because he’s stupid and immature, and maybe a little rude, doesn’t mean that he’ll be that way forever. People will change as they get older.”

“Even Damon Moore?” I asked, a rueful smile pushing it’s way onto my face. Beside me, Wendy gasped, sitting bolt upright, and spinning me around to face her. At her open mouthed look of disbelief all I could do was nod. 

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Clare.” I just rolled my eyes at that. 

“I’m not a saint you know.” She shook my shoulders with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. 

“This is serious.” She insisted. “Sweet mother Teresa on the hood of a Mercedes Benz, is this serious.” 

“Okay you can’t quote parody videos if you’re being serious.” And I could feel the beginning of a smile creep over my lips. 

“Are you kidding me, this is the perfect time to quote parody videos.” Wendy gawked at my apparent inability to read the situation. “This is ‘you shot the Haru that can read’ level serious.” I snickered a little bit at that, the growing pressure in my dissipating. 

“Oh my god, stop. You’re not funny” 

“Can’t stop the beat, won’t stop.” She said grooving a bit in her seat. At that moment the bell signaling the end of lunch rang clear through the air. We hopped to our feet, carefully dusting the thin layer of hallway grime from our pants. “By the way,” Wendy began, a bit of her seriousness returned. “Do you want to break the news to the others?” 

For a few seconds I thought about saying yes, of letting everyone know. But I had promised to pretend it never happened, and even if Damon Moore was the most intolerable jackass on the face of the planet, he was my soul mate. I couldn’t let go of the idea that a promise to your soul mate had to mean something. 

“No, we’re not really . . . We agreed to pretend like it never happened. So, I guess you could say I don’t really have a soul mate.” I shrugged, adjusting my glasses as I stared at the ground. When I didn’t get an immediate response, I looked up, only to see that Wendy’s face had turned to stone. “Oh no, that’s not a good look.” 

“Hey, Dumb and Dumber, there you are!” From down the hallway Abda waved her hand. She caught up quickly, in that bizarre fast walk of hers. “Yo, Wendy, you okay?” 

“Yes, I am Wendy.” And try as she might Wendy couldn’t keep a straight face. Her façade cracked as she doubled over, laughing at her own joke. 

“If only someone had really shot you.” Abda sighed, rolling her eyes. She paused before heading through the doorway, turning towards me. “Remember, who your real enemies are.” She said sagely. 

“Hiro.” I replied and she nodded, clapping me on the back. 

“Don’t let that two faced little grade grubber one up you on this test. That’s the last thing you need.” She clapped me on the back one last time before heading through the door. 

“You should tell Hiro that your soul mate is Damon Moore.” Wendy said straightening up. 

“What?” I nearly shrieked. 

“It’d get him to shut up about how he was ‘practically born with his soul mate’.” She frowned, the memory of his ‘we’ve known each other since elementary school’ speech dredged up once more. 

“Don’t joke about stuff like that. Plus, Damon would just deny it, and it’s not like I’ll really ever see him again to tell him to fake it just so I could one up that prick.” I frowned and shook my head. Wendy didn’t respond. “Wendy . . .” 

“Hm? What? Oops, just drifted off for a second there.” She spoke a bit too fast, grabbing my arm and dragging me into our bio class. “Come on, got that test to take.” 

I followed her without resistance, and took my test as told. However, occasionally, when I was sure she wouldn’t notice, I would steal a glance at her. More often then not, I caught her looking off ahead of her, twirling her pencil in hand. It was the same look she had while watching the Prestige, or while playing Balderdash. It was her planning look. What she could be so invested in puzzling out, I wasn’t quite sure. In the end I dismissed it. After all, she was my best friend. If she thought I needed to know, she’d tell me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
***  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of calculus all earlier strangeness was forgotten, and even Damon Moore was a distant thought, pushed to the very back of my mind. 

“Clarence.” My calc. teacher called, as I was packing up my stuff. “Would you mind if I asked you a favor?” 

“Sure, Mr. Q.” It was strange for him to ask me favors, when someone like Wendy was his teacher’s aid. If someone needed help with anything, the first person to volunteer was always that girl. 

“I was wondering if you’d mind tutoring one of the Pre-AP Pre-Cal students for me? You see, his grades have been dropping recently, but he refuses to drop to regular Pre-Cal class. All of the coaches are worried about him qualifying, and they asked me to set him up with a tutor.” Mr. Q scratched the back of his head, looking a little put out at the mere memory. 

“Um, alright.” Tutoring was never that much fun, and by the sounds of it, this kid would need long term help. However, I was always hard pressed to deny Mr. Q anything. Stupid favorite teachers. “When do I start?” 

“Actually, the coaches were very insistent that we start as soon as possible, so if it’s not too much trouble . . . today after school?” He was so contrite about it that I couldn’t quite bring myself to be angry with him. 

“Alright.” I sighed, resisting the urge to bang my head against the table. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
***  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The library was quiet on a Monday after school. Few kids had the motivation this early in the week to study, and most big projects are due on Fridays so no one was using the school computers. 

I followed my instructions to the T, making my way to the back corner of the library, where a small table was tucked against the window, behind a bookcase. 

“Hi, I’m going to be your tutor.” I mumbled quickly, keeping a constant visual on my shoes. The other kid was silent. Great. Thirty seconds into this and they’re already unresponsive. “So, um, what do you . . .” I paused for a second to take a deep breath. This was fine. It’s just a person. I’m fine. “What do you, want to-” I looked up at the student in front of me. 

“Aw hell no!” That was perhaps the first time Damon and I would be on the same page for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's references are brought to you by 50% Off! a Free! parody and Attack on Titan parody. PS I wasn't sure how to depict time breaks, so there you go. You get the little squiggle sandwiches.


End file.
